


Some Alone Time

by spikewriter



Series: A Symphony of Ten [17]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Big Bang Theory (TV) (mention)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikewriter/pseuds/spikewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs some quiet every once in a while</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Alone Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Day Seventeen of my 2009 Advent Calendar on LiveJournal and edited for posting here.

The swirling gases of a forming nebula as viewed through the open doors of the TARDIS made a perfect backdrop for afternoon tea, so it was with a somewhat contented sigh that the Doctor shifted his position slightly before reaching for another scone. It was moments like this, comfortably leaning back against the door jamb, a copy of Dr. Sheldon Cooper's _Black Holes and Dark Matter, a Consideration of Gamma Rays and String Theory_ on his lap and no one in the universe needing rescue or his assistance, that he didn't mind traveling alone. He did need someone along -- what good was being brilliant if you didn't have anyone to appreciate it? -- but there was also something to be said for solitude.

Nibbling at the scone, he considered the colors that played through the nebula, dust and other space stuff catching the light of stars. If he wanted, he could have rattled off the reasoning behind why certain conditions produced certain effects across the spectrum or focus on the time lines and see what might await this newly forming place. He chose to do neither, for once simply letting himself relax and enjoy the show. His mind was drifting, wandering down old paths of memory, so old that the sharp ache that accompanied newer ones was mere dull tickle. He remembered his first solo flight in a TARDIS and what a glorious sense of freedom he'd felt being the only pilot instead of one of many. With a smile, he also remembered a failing grade and his instructor grounding him for six months until he learned "restraint."

He never really had learned that lesson, though he had learned how to control himself long enough to squeak through on the second try. Once he was deemed proficient enough to be granted the appropriate permissions from the appropriate authorities, there'd been no stopping him. He felt the urge to run and the universe was a vast playground to explore.

That was the problem of the young; always running and never stopping to savor. There was a time when he would have scoffed at the idea of whiling away a few hours in the simple pleasures of beautiful scenery, a good book, a teapot, and a plate of small treats. With another sigh, he stopped paying attention to the hypotheses on the page -- Cooper had gotten it wrong, anyway, and not for the first time -- and let himself enjoy the beauty of the universe, one leg dangling over the edge of the threshold. Another thing proper young Time Lords were most definitely not supposed to do. Good thing he was neither young nor proper any more, wasn't it?

Perhaps it was idle nostalgia, but he felt a hankering to revisit some of the spots of his youth, places he'd seen before things had gone wrong and he'd decided it was best to go on permanent walkabout. As huge as the galaxy was, there were still things worth seeing more than once.

Such a decision would require moving, however, something he did not feel like doing at the moment. For once, he was content to simply be. A hand on the pot told him the tea was still warm, so he poured himself another cup as he considered whether to have another scone or a french fancy next. Upon such important decisions the universe turned.

Another important decision was to discard his current reading material as being too dense for his tastes at the moment. Later, he might be in a mood to pick it up again or possibly even pay a visit to Cal Tech to seek out the author for some discussion. For now, though, he reached for the other volume that sat on the floor. Carefully opening the old paperback, he sipped at his tea as he took up his place in _Murder at the Vicarage_ once more: _It's so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody than to be a feather in his cap..._


End file.
